Night at the cannery.

We haven't had a good breastfeeding post in a while, so what the heck.
I hate the fact that I'm not nursing Eve. Have I ever mentioned that? I put on a good face most of the time, because, let's face it, as far as challenges go, it's really a ridiculous reason to cry (especially six months after making the agonizing switch to formula). Notwithstanding, after tenderly nursing the first three of my children for a year each it's been an adjustment, both logistical and emotional.

Breastfeeding just agrees with so many things I value. Convenience, frugality, lack of waste, time, giving my children what is best, etc.

Nevertheless, it is what it is. I have a few moments of upset such as the time earlier this week when I was treating my children to the free family film at Edwards. Eve was tired. The movie was loud. She wouldn't sleep. She screamed. I tried to pacify her. The binkie didn't work. She wasn't hungry. I lamented the fact that if she were nursing I could plug her into the one failproof fix that would lull her to sleep. But I couldn't. I grieved again.

In contrast, I also try to balance that with the blessings I have seen because of that fateful decision just a few months ago. I find most of them in the lessons I've learned, because I still would not have chosen this road, had the circumstances been different. Still, I am grateful that I don't have to force a feeding on my child 10 minutes before running out the door and rush back within 2 hours because the baby won't take a bottle. I'm glad I didn't have to wait 6 months after giving birth before attending the temple at the risk of having an embarrassing letdown. More recently, though, I can marvel that my husband gets a small glimpse of the sacrifice it is to nurture an infant.

Last night, I served in the local church cannery (another experience that I may have missed out on, had I been nursing). After arriving home, covered in syrup and apricots, I headed for the shower and emerged to find Tim feeding Eve. He remarked that he never understood how difficult it is to stop everything you're doing to appease a hungry baby. That had always been my job. After taking care of all four children last night, including interrupting whatever else was going on to feed Eve, he got a glimpse of what it is to be a mother, in a way that he never had before, because even if he had shouldered every other burden, he could always pass the feeding off to me. For that I was grateful. Not because I could rub in his face the fact that I had done more than he for the past 6 years. But because I could see the increased love he felt for our children, the natural byproduct of giving all to meet the needs of another.